I love stories, especially when I get to learn more about our family. Stories shows us what our ancestors experienced and what life was like back then. This is a collection of posts started between cousin Denis and Aunt Pauline.
“If i was a writer,” says Pauline, “ I would like to write a book titled “the Scissors” how my mother had to cut my long black natural curls because in lice season, the fine comb and coal oil couldn’t get through my hair. How many hand-me-downs she cut to make clothes to fit us. How many hours we cut clothes from the Eaton and Sear catalogues to fit over the models, like Denis said, we spent hours making furniture for them to sit on. And we were all in the same room, interacting while this was going on. Our brothers made the houses and the curtains came from the catalogues. Oh oh I think I’ve started my book!”
We start with one idea, and all of a sudden, the story takes a life of it’s own. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I’ve enjoyed reading it and putting it together.
Denis shared his memories of going to the farm house with Uncle Claude.
When my Mom died, Uncle Claude Vinet and I went to the old burned out farm house. I just wanted to go. While walking around the foundation, we were looking down into where the old cellar was, where I think Grandpa stored potatoes and stuff for cold storage.
When I was a kid, if I remember correctly, the cellar door was off the summer kitchen and I also thought that was what my aunties called the lion’s den. Scary place when you open the door and looked down into the deep dark hole that turned to the left half way down the stone stairway with no lights.
You could smell the damp musty air, waft up from that dark dingy hole in the ground. Oh sorry my mind went back there for a second. So Uncle Claude said “what is that down there on that rock? Are those scissors and do they have a broken tip?”
Sure enough. I climbed down into the hole and grabbed them and I said “Yes! They are. Really rusted but they do have a broken tip.”
I handed them to him and he said “Oh My God! Those are the scissors we got our hair cut with.”
We were both amazed and a quietness came over us in that moment and all you could here is the wind.
That was so cool to find those. Uncle Claude was not interested in keeping them. I asked he did not want them could I have them for a keep sake and he said he did not want them. So now they are in my (Denis’) daughter’s care Laura Dietrich.
So I never knew how many of the Vinet Family got their hair cut by these scissors. Maybe all of them even Uncle Jerry.
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